July 31, 1932. My Aunt Flo is getting married! For two years she has been keeping company with Eddie, whom I already called "Uncle." Eddie often joked that he anticipated coming to our house for dinner just as much to see his favorite little "Niece" as her beautiful aunt. Flo had been living with us for two years, and though I would be sorry to see her leave, I was happy that Eddie and I would now be truly related.
Something called The Depression was in full bloom, so naturally the wedding would take place right in our apartment. A two-layered white frosted cake was in our icebox. A little china bride and her groom stood stoically on the kitchen window sill waiting to be placed on top. My mother had been making chopped liver for days. Of course, I was to be the flower girl. I would strew rose petals from a shallow basket as my Aunt followed me down our long hallway. My bangs are cut, my pink dress is ironed, my patent leather Mary Janes are shining. In our living room a chupah has been set up and cheery, rotund Rabbi Teller in his big square yarmelke and satin talit is already standing beneath it. There were more friends and relatives than chairs; they stood around the chupah joking and schmoozing as they waited for the ceremony to begin .Our dining room doubled as the official waiting room for the bridal party. I was ushered there with Flo and my father, who would give her away. Eddie, in a new grey pinstriped suit, was waiting under the chupah.
Time to begin! I’m more excited than Flo, who is resplendent in a new lacy beige dress that will double for the honeymoon. A violin begins to play and I recognize "Here Comes the Bride, Dum, Dum, Dum Dum." My Uncle Dave, who always reminded me of a wrinkled bull dog, was in charge of the bridal procession, a self-appointed wedding coordinator. After a gentle nudge on my shoulder he urged: "Now, Go!" Slowly I began my carefully rehearsed walk in time with the music: right foot forward, drop rose petal to floor, close heels, now left foot, another petal thrown on the other side, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe heel. Keep smiling. My timing was perfect; I didn’t miss a beat as I fondled the silky petals in the basket, mentally calculating the amount of time it would take to empty it. With a little luck and careful planning, the petals would last just until I reached the living room.
It was important that they come out even - that is, that they were used up just as the ceremony began, but not a moment before. My mother had impressed upon me that if I take one bite of meat, followed by one bite of mashed potatoes, followed by another with the dreaded vegetable (which I despised), I would finish dinner with my plate clean. By the same token, I had trained myself to make the juju bees in my candy box last until just the end of the Saturday movie. It seemed important to apply this principal to the rose petals. Halfway down the long hall, my rhythm was rudely interrupted by Uncle Dave, with another tap on my shoulder. Professional smile still plastered on my lips, I listened as he bent over to whisper in my left ear through his cupped hand: "Save some flowers, there’s going to be another wedding." Another wedding? What could he possibly mean? There was no arguing with Uncle Dave. Without breaking stride, I stole a glance down to the basket. The petals were thinning out, I had calculated the basket to be empty just as I reached the front room, but now I must suddenly reassess. Instead of throwing two or three at a time, I began to dole them out more carefully. Left hand, right hand, toe, heel, toe heel. One at a time now, and on the next step, I faked a gesture, not really throwing anything at all.
I reached the chupah. Standing to one side was Eddie’s handsome older brother, Earl, together with his pretty young wife, Batya, serving as Best Man and Matron of Honor. Flo followed a few feet behind, the music stopped, and Rabbi Teller began the ceremony. Eddie broke the wineglass on my mother’s living room carpet, everyone clapped and kissed the bride. Before I could reach Aunt Flo, Batya and I were ushered down the hallway back into the dining room, where Daddy explained that, although they had already been married at City Hall, the couple now wanted a really Jewish Wedding and that Rabbi Teller had agreed to perform a "double ceremony." So once again, the violin, once again, heel, toe, heel, toe, a petal to the left, a petal to the right. This time it was Batya who followed close behind, smiling and demure, like a blushing bride. The rose petals must hold out until Batya joined Earl. I could only try to make them last. Perfect! When the rabbi began the second ceremony, the basket was empty. I had made everything come out even. When the four newlyweds kissed they included me in their embrace, hugging and kissing me, lauding me for doing such a great job.
Weddings come and weddings go, but his one would never be forgotten. Several of my girl friends had already been flower girls but nary a one of them had had to make their rose petals come out even for two weddings at once. Aunt Flo may have had to share her wedding day with her sisterin- law, but I had truly been the star of the show.